


take your breath away

by daisylincs



Series: Agents of Birthdays [19]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of Birthdays, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), And Friendship, Beaches, F/F, Falling In Love, Florida, Gift Fic, Happily Ever Afters, Happy Birthday; May!!, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and cherry cocktails, beach fluff, birthday fic, bliss, holiday au, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28772202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs
Summary: Jemma Simmons is reluctant to take a holiday, even if itisa dream prize of an all-expenses-paid trip to a five-star hotel in Florida - but when she gets there and meets the hotel manager's stunning daughter and her two self-proclaimed idiot best friends, she starts to think that maybe this getaway actuallywill,well, take her breath away.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter, Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson & Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter, Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter
Series: Agents of Birthdays [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886911
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	take your breath away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MayBeBrilliant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayBeBrilliant/gifts).



> Dear May, 
> 
> Awww, my sweet little Moon Cake, happiest of happy birthdays to you!! I hope you have an absolutely _fantastic_ day, regardless of 2021 craziness, and that you get _really_ spoilt on this special day 🥺🥺 Because, love, you _deserve_ it. 
> 
> You know, siblings can often be the _worst,_ but I am so glad that yours persuaded you to get Tumblr and AO3 - getting to know you these past months, and talking and laughing and reference-ing with you, has brought me endless amounts of delight in what was actually a pretty tough time. 
> 
> Love, you're just so _sweet,_ and funny, and caring, and honestly just genuinely AMAZING - and as your Fandom Mum, I can say with 100% certainty that I am very, _very_ proud to have you as my child. Everything you create is positively stunning, and always _incredible_ to see crossing my dash - and as for the personality that comes along with it, well, that's honestly just a BLESSING. 
> 
> Seriously, I can, and have, talked to you and ranted with you for literal hours on end - and, let me tell you, I spent all those hours with a massive grin on my face. So I think it's more than a little fitting that this fic, my present to you on your BIRTHDAYYY 😍😍😍, got, uh, just a tiny little bit out of control *sneezes in 11k words* But, love, let's just see that as an ode to all the many amazing times we've had together these last few months! 
> 
> Because it really _has_ been amazing, you know. Absolutely, ABSOLUTELY amazing!! Just like you 🥺🥺💜 And I hope you have a birthday that's just as incredible as all the rest of you. Love you!! 🥰🥮

"Jemma, darling," her mum's voice came floating up the stairs, "there's a letter for you!" 

Jemma stopped mid-sentence about explaining how her sample dendrotoxin could be used as a substitute for morphine, wondering, firstly, who on earth was sending her a _letter_ in the digital age, and secondly, what on earth said letter was _about._

"Would you mind bringing it up?" she called down to her mother, tapping her fingers lightly against the keyboard as she re-read what she had said so far. 

"Here you go, dear," her mum was saying a moment later, handing her a sealed envelope as well as a cup of tea with a Jaffa Cake on the side. 

Her mind half a mile away as she mentally double-checked her molar composition calculations, Jemma merely hummed her thanks, absent-mindedly taking a sip of her tea before tugging the envelope open. 

In her distracted state, it took her at least a minute to make sense of what she was seeing - and even then, it didn't make _sense._

"Mum," she said, lowering the letter incredulously, "it says here I've won a trip - to _Florida!"_

Her mother gasped, then snatched the paper out of Jemma's hands. "Let me see that!" 

Pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, she read over the contents of the paper once - and, unlike with Jemma, they seemed to make perfect sense to her. 

"Oh, but, darling, this is _wonderful!"_ her mum exclaimed, lowering the letter to beam across at Jemma. "Don't you think it's wonderful?" 

"Well," Jemma said slowly, "I'm sure it _would_ be wonderful if I had actually signed up for that competition." 

Her mother's brow crinkled. "Are you sure you didn't sign up and just forget about it?" she asked. 

Jemma just gave her a long, flat look. If there was _one_ thing she excelled at, it was preparation - there was no _way_ she'd sign up for a competition with a prize to _Florida,_ of all places, without remembering about it. 

Her mother let out a soft sigh, taking off her spectacles and beginning to polish them with her blouse. 

Jemma's eyebrows lifted. Her mum had always been a _terrible_ liar - they had that in common - and one of her tells was that before she tried to tell a lie, she would take off her spectacles and polish them thoroughly. 

_"Mum,"_ Jemma warned, in a tone that hopefully conveyed _I'm-onto-you_ and not something like _oh-my-gosh-that-Jaffa-Cake-was-delicious-I'd-like-another._

Yeah… another thing Jemma and her mother shared was that they weren't very good at being threatening. 

Still, though, her mother got the gist. 

"Oh, darling, I'm _sorry,"_ her mum began, which, in Jemma's opinion, wasn't the best sign of what was to come next. "But you were just so _down_ after you and that cabbagey boy - Stilton?" 

_"Milton,"_ Jemma corrected with a small grin, knowing perfectly well that her mother had remembered exactly what her ex's name was, but was just choosing to pretend to cheer Jemma up a little. (And, apparently, to make cheese puns.) 

It worked, though, and her mother noticed, her eyes softening with affection behind her spectacles. "Milton, yes," she agreed. "You just haven't been _yourself_ after the two of you went your separate ways, dear, and I know you like to say it isn't hurting you -" 

"It really isn't, Mum," Jemma interrupted with a small shake of her head. "I know I'm definitely better off without him." 

Her mother didn't look convinced, but it was _actually_ true - it wasn't because of poor cabbage-headed Milton that she had been in a slump lately; it was more just the idea that… well, she had never been the prettiest girl in school, and intellect had a way of driving people away, so what if she never found anyone? 

She didn't mind if it was a guy or a girl, fair or dark, tall or short… she had just always known, the way you _do,_ that she wanted someone to come home to in the evenings. She didn't _want_ to spend her life alone - and it was the thought that she _might_ that was throwing her a loop. 

Because here she was, twenty-seven and successful enough that she had a very comfortable apartment of her own, but so _lonely_ in it that she had to beg to come and stay with her parents for a couple of weeks.

It was… it was _embarrassing,_ honestly, but it also left her with a stinging kind of ache in her heart. What if the only people she'd _ever_ have to come back home to were her parents? 

And, goodness, it wasn't that she didn't love her parents - far from it. But she knew it was different to have someone of your _own,_ the way her parents had always had each other, and the thought of never getting to experience that for herself _scared_ her. 

She was a woman, yes, and proud of her independence and success in her own right - but success was a very lonely thing if you didn't have anyone to share it with. 

Her mum was watching her with concerned eyes, her spectacles half-slipping down her nose, but the love in her gaze no less sincere for it. "Your father and I booked the trip for you," she told Jemma quietly, holding her gaze. "Your cousin Lance works at one of these little beach places in Florida, and your dad managed to find out from him what the best place to enter a competition would be." 

"That's very sweet of you," Jemma said, and she meant it, "but I really can't go." 

Her mother blinked at her. "Why on earth not?"

"Well, because, firstly, I have _so_ much work to finish, taking a break now would be catastrophic -" 

"Or maybe it would be the best thing to happen to you for a while," her mum pointed out mildly. "When was the last time you went to a beach, anyway? Let alone an all-expenses-paid, five-star trip to a private beach." 

"That would be right about… never," Jemma said with a wry grin. 

Her mum returned the smile, but her gaze was full of concern again. "I think the sun would do you good, darling," she said, leaning forward to brush a strand of Jemma's hair behind her ear. "Besides, it'd be a chance to just _relax_ for a whole week - when's the last time you did that?" 

Thinking about it, Jemma had to admit that the answer was probably the same as the first question's.

"Exactly," her mother said, nodding as though she had just laid down irrefutable evidence in a court. "And I think it would do you _good,_ dear, to feel what that's like, and just forget about all your worries for a week." 

Forget about all her worries… well, that _did_ sound very nice, goodness knew she had enough on her plate with this dendrotoxin project. And that was even _before_ she added future-relationship-doubts into the mix. 

Alright, maybe a break _wouldn't_ be the worst thing. 

"Besides, there are always lots of cute strangers on beaches, _especially_ on popular beaches like the ones in Florida," her mum pointed out.

Outwardly, Jemma rolled her eyes, but what she wouldn't tell her mum was that she was actually… considering it. After all, on a beach, particularly a beach in _Florida_ , nobody would know who she was - she could just go in as _herself,_ no reputation and no prior judgments. 

If she couldn't find someone then, well, she'd know for sure it was _her -_ there, simple science. 

Her mum, not being of the mind-reader persuasion, was of course oblivious to these thoughts, and she tried one more tack to get Jemma to agree - "And, darling, do you know what the best thing about Florida is?" 

"What?" Jemma asked, already half-smiling as she caught the sparkle in her mother's eye. 

_"It never rains,"_ her mother said significantly, nodding dramatically to emphasize her point. 

Jemma had to laugh at that, glancing out of her window at a grey sky with the all-too-familiar perpetual drizzle falling down. 

No rain at all… well, that was just a _bargain._

"My cousin Lance, did you say?" she asked, reaching for a pen and paper and clicking the pen into writing mode. She glanced up, meeting her mum's gaze with a smile. "Let's do this." 

//

Three weeks later, Jemma was stepping out of the airport and into bright sunlight, breathing in the fresh smell of the sea and watching the tall palm trees that lined the road wave in the gentle breeze. 

Bloody _hell_ \- that tourism booklet hadn't been lying at all; this place really _was_ like a slice of paradise. 

And in _America_ , too! She never would have believed it. 

But the evidence was all around her as she stepped further into the sunny, crowded main street, her jaw _dropping_ as she saw that the beach started just a few metres from the edge of the road. 

"Well, I never," she murmured, looking at the dazzlingly white sand just a couple of paces away from the black tarmac (the only thing separating the two was, predictably enough, a line of palm trees.) And just beyond the white sand, past the beach umbrellas and multicoloured towels… well, there was the _sea,_ the most vividly azure-blue sea she had ever seen, complete with a strip that was almost _green_ right where it touched the beach. 

It really _did_ look like something straight out of a post-card, and it took Jemma, her mind and eyes still accustomed to the dull grey of London, a full minute to tear her gaze away. 

And she had a whole _week_ to holiday away here! 

Suddenly unable to wait, she pulled out her phone and swiped over to the email her Cousin Lance had sent. She had memorised the directions already, of course, but she knew it was always good to double-check. 

Her hotel, apparently, was just a short walk away from the airport, and right on the main road, too - all she had to do was walk straight down until she reached the section where the colorful ice-cream stalls and swimwear stores turned into swanky hotels, then turn into the fourth building on her left. 

Jemma took her time about it, stopping to admire the bright colours and patterns of the swimming towels, laughingly shaking her head at all the vendors who offered her surfboards, and even indulging herself once by buying a triple strawberry ice-cream - it wasn't low-fat, of course, or reduced sugar, but as she strolled down the bright main street with the happy shrieks of children playing and the splash of water in her ears, she thought that she really didn't care. 

Just as she was finishing her ice-cream, she reached the start of the hotel section - _perfect timing,_ she thought, wholly pleased with herself as she dropped her serviette and the last of her cone in the dustbin, beginning to count hotels in earnest. 

_One, two, three…_

And there it was, resplendent in front of her - a large, gracious white building with elegant Roman-style pillars on the front porch, and a hand-painted blue seashell above the front door, a combination which managed to seamlessly merge "chic and modern" with "warm and family-inspired." 

Already deciding she liked the look of the place, Jemma pushed open the little gate and walked right in through the open door, trailing her suitcase behind her. 

The interior of the hotel managed to achieve the same effect as outside - spacious and breezy, with patio doors that were flung open to the world, their blue-and-white curtains billowing in the breeze from the beach. The furniture was done in creamy white, with tasteful blue throw pillows, and the walls were covered in pictures of the beach, and little sand-castles, and the multitude of beach umbrellas on the key. 

Just a little further on, there was a pool on the deck, sparkling a vivid aquamarine blue under the bright sun. Several comfortable-looking loungers were scattered around it, with waiters in beach gear passing around trays of cherry-red cocktails to the guests reclining on them. 

"It's great, isn't it?" a warm voice asked from behind Jemma, and she turned around to see a woman who, she thought, was as close to the living embodiment of this place as you would get - chic and effortlessly stylish, in her teal-blue bikini wrap that stood out stunningly against her tan skin, and her dark hair piled up in a messy but gorgeous bun, but simultaneously warm and welcoming, with her mischievous, dimpled grin and brown eyes full of laughter. 

"Hi, I'm Daisy," she introduced herself, stretching her hand out towards Jemma and simultaneously giving her head a little shake to flick back a messy brown curl that had escaped her bun. 

"Hi," Jemma managed, trying not to let her gaze linger on the adorable grin tugging at Daisy's lips for too long and instead focusing on shaking her hand. 

Daisy's smile widened, and she leaned back a little, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "How can I help you?" she asked, gesturing around the lounge with a carefree wave of her hand. 

"Oh! I won a stay here, actually," Jemma said, feeling like an idiot for forgetting and bending to root in her handbag. "Ah - here you go." 

Daisy leaned over to see, one messy curl falling in front of her face, and she flicked it back absent-mindedly before turning to beam up at Jemma. "This looks great!" she said, shooting her a double thumbs-up. "Welcome to the Shieldshell." 

Her smile was so infectious, so _warm,_ that Jemma had to smile too, feeling unabated delight bubble up in her as she looked around her. 

"Now, if you'd just follow me to the front desk, let's get you checked in, and I can give you the grand tour!" Daisy told her, already half-dancing over to the counter. 

When Jemma didn't follow immediately, she tipped her head back, waving Jemma over with a smile that was absolutely irresistible in its bright adorableness. 

A little embarrassed by how quickly she had become completely charmed by the tanned American girl in her teal-blue bikini and her sparkling-eyed smile, Jemma followed, listening with a kind of helpless adoration as Daisy babbled nineteen-to-the-dozen about her room, and the hotel in general. 

"Oh, you've really got _such_ a great deal here," Daisy gushed, her fingers a blue as she typed in Jemma's room number. Leaning her elbows conspiratorially on the counter, she said, "Between you and me, the Cerith Room is the _best_ in the house, it's got the most stunning view over the ocean. And it's _so_ close to the spa!" 

She dropped her elbows, straightening up with a look of surprise and sudden delight that seemed to be meant just for Jemma. "Oh my God, our spa is _incredible,_ right up on the second floor with a view of the whole beach. And my mom knows pressure points like you wouldn't _believe,_ we've had people pass out from how good she is!" Clasping her hands under her chin, she gushed, "Oh, you _have_ to try it out!" 

"Oh, I, um," Jemma stammered, trying to gather her wits, "it sounds wonderful?" 

"Great, I'm signing you up for an appointment," Daisy said, her fingers flying over the keys again. "How's tomorrow morning at ten?" 

When Jemma didn't immediately argue, she chirped "Great!" again, finalising the booking in a few quick strokes of her fingers and shooting Jemma a dazzling smile. 

Jemma, who had just been about to protest that no, actually, she _didn't_ particularly want to be in the spa at ten tomorrow morning, shut it weakly at the sight of that smile. 

"Come on," Daisy said, dancing around the counter again and briefly catching Jemma's hand as she passed, tugging gently, "Let me give you the grand tour!" 

And, still reeling over the fact that she had just been sweet-talked into getting a spa booking she didn't want, Jemma couldn't do much except follow Daisy as she skipped through the lounge and out onto the patio. 

"As you saw earlier, this is the patio, and that's the pool," she said, nodding at the locations in question. "Our deck chairs are some of the most comfortable in the entire beach strip, I can reserve one for you now, if you'd like?"

"Er -" Jemma said helplessly, but Daisy had already breezed on, showing her towards a palm-shaded bar on the opposite side of the deck. 

"This is our bar," she said, and Jemma thought she heard a note of deeper fondness beneath the bright chirpiness of her tone. "And that over there would be my asshole best friend, and his asshole boyfriend next to him." 

Cupping her hand over her mouth, she told Jemma conspiratorially, "They really are assholes, but their cherry cocktail is the best in the _world,_ I can't recommend it enough -" 

But Jemma had stopped listening right about at "Asshole Boyfriend," as the man in question turned around, and she got a good look at his face for the first time. 

"Cousin Lance!" she exclaimed in delight, dashing around the bar to throw herself into his arms. 

He caught her with a surprised but beaming smile. "Jems! Bloody hell, stuff a sock in it with the _Cousin Lance,_ you sound like Great Aunt Sally."

"Fine, _Hunter,"_ she said, leaning back in his embrace so she could grin at him properly. "It's so good to see you!" 

"You too," he said, slinging his arm around her shoulder and turning her to face the other man. "Oi, Fitzy! Come meet my favourite cousin, Jemma." 

The other man - Asshole Best Friend, if Jemma was remembering right - dried his hands and put down the cocktail glass he had been rinsing, coming forward to shake Jemma's hand with a friendly smile. 

"Pleased to meet you," he said, the Scottish accent taking her by surprise. 

She turned slightly to quirk her eyebrows at Hunter, and his grin widened, clapping her on the shoulder. "Yup, we birds of a feather stick together here in Florida," he said. "Also, the whole world knows Americans can't make halfway-decent drinks." 

Jemma laughed out loud at that, and Fitz joined in with an affectionate roll of his eyes in his boyfriend's general direction. 

Jemma appraised him for a minute, noting the way his entire demeanor seemed to soften when he glanced at Hunter, regardless of the pretence of sarcasm - she approved. 

He was cute, too, with sandy blond curls and sky-blue eyes. Not as cute as _Daisy,_ of course, but still a wholly decent catch for her charmer cousin. 

And speaking of Daisy - 

_"Hunter,"_ she called, crossing over to the bar and socking him in the shoulder, "why didn't you tell me she was _family?"_

Hunter's gaze lit up with amusement. "Why, did you give her the flirt act and charm her into all kinds of outrageous deals?" 

"I did," Daisy said, turning wide, apologetic eyes on Jemma. "I'll cancel your spa appointment, I'm sorry." 

"Oh, no worries, that's, um, that's not a problem," Jemma said, flustered, and tucking a curl of hair behind her ear. "Thanks about the appointment, though." 

Hunter actually cackled, tugging Jemma into his side for a moment before releasing her and giving her a little push onto a bar chair. "Daisy is the hotel flirt," he told her, already making his way around the bar to shake up a drink for her. "Her dad owns the place, and her mom does the spa - and also the martial arts dojo downstairs, but you're not supposed to tell the guests that - while _her_ job is to charm all the guests into spending themselves silly while they're here." 

Daisy raised both hands, still looking guilty as she plopped into the bar chair next to Jemma. "Let me buy you a drink to make up for that?" she asked, her smile smaller and a little more tentative - but, now that Jemma could tell the difference, a lot more genuine. 

Jemma, still reeling a bit from the sheer force of Daisy's charming smiles, could only nod - and Daisy grinned, kicking her feet up on the bar. "Two cherry cocktails, please," she ordered with a smug smile. 

Fitz shoved her feet off the bar as he passed, reaching up to take down a cocktail glass in the rack above him. 

Quite unconcerned, Daisy kicked her feet back up again, shooting Fitz an angelic smile when he rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

"I hope you know you're paying for those out of your own pocket," he said as he set down two cherry cocktails in front of her, putting his hands on his hips threateningly. 

Daisy shot him a wide-eyed, innocent look, batting her eyelashes. "Who, me? You're not giving them to me on the house?" 

"I most certainly am not," Fitz started to say, but Hunter came around from the other side of the bar, wrapping his arms around him from behind. 

"Come on, love," he said, his voice so full of affection that Jemma had to smile. "Give it to her for my cousin." 

"Fine," Fitz said begrudgingly, but the grumpiness in his tone was belied _completely_ by the way he had utterly melted into Hunter's touch, and the soft look that had stolen into his blue eyes. 

"But _only_ for your cousin," Fitz warned, obviously seeing the shit-eating grin on Daisy's face. _"This_ one doesn't get a single freebie out of me." 

Daisy just raised her hands, palms up, and Fitz begrudgingly slid the drink over to her. 

"He's only pretending to be a grump, by the way," she told Jemma as she picked up her cocktail, swirling it once or twice before taking a long sip. _"Mmm._ Good stuff." 

"Which is why I didn't want to give it to _you,"_ Fitz called over his shoulder from where he was mixing up another cocktail by Hunter's side. 

Without so much as batting an eyelash, Daisy flipped him off, stretching her feet out a little more comfortably across the bar. 

Jemma cupped her chin in her hands, fighting back a grin of her own. She had to admit, she was _loving_ the dynamic here. 

Catching her gaze, Daisy paused with her cocktail half-raised to her lips, tipping her head at Jemma's own drink. "Go on, try it," she said encouragingly, swirling the cherry-coloured liquid in her own glass. "It's delicious, I promise, and it'll make me feel a little better about flirting you up like that." 

Jemma, who had been just about to say that cocktails weren't really her thing (she was more of a gin girl, to be honest) softened when she noticed how genuinely guilty Daisy looked. "You really don't have to feel bad about that, you had no way of knowing," she pointed out, but she lifted her cocktail glass tentatively to her lips regardless.

"Besides, it's not like I really _minded_ the flirting," she added with a faint blush that she tried to hide a moment later by tipping the glass back and taking a small sip. 

Her eyes widened. 

Sweet, but not _too_ sweet, and with a delicious, crisp wild berry taste… this cocktail really _was_ spectacular, what the hell. 

"That is _so good,"_ she said appreciatively, closing her eyes blissfully as she took another sip. 

Fitz and Hunter, who had been watching from the bar, took a bow at the same time. 

"Why, thank you, madame," Hunter said, coming up from his bow with a dramatic flourish. "It's our true love special." 

He winked at Jemma, and beside him, Fitz shook his head with the affectionate exasperation that, she was coming to realise, pretty much summed up their relationship. 

She wasn't criticising, though, not when it made Hunter this happy, and _especially_ not when it produced drinks this good. 

She took another sip, not even trying to hide her happy sigh, and caught Daisy watching her with a small, pleased-looking smile. 

When she raised her eyebrows, the American girl leaned forward to clink her glass against Jemma's. "I'm glad you like the drink," she said with a genuine smile. 

Jemma ducked her head, feeling her cheeks pink slightly under Daisy's gaze. "It _is_ really good," she said, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the bar. 

But Daisy wasn't done yet. "Just for the record, I didn't exactly mind flirting with you, either," she said, knocking her cocktail glass lightly against Jemma's. 

Jemma glanced up from her study of the bar, surprised, and found Daisy watching her with an impish, playful sparkle in her eyes. 

_You're_ much _cuter than the boring white guys I usually have to flirt with,_ that sparkle seemed to say. 

Then again, maybe that was just Jemma reading into things - but, _come on,_ she was sure she'd get tired of countless boys falling over their feet to win her favour if she was in Daisy's position. 

_"But,"_ Daisy said, and while the playfulness was still very much there in her gaze, something a lot softer made an appearance, too. "You're family," she said simply. "And here at the Shieldshell, family is special." 

She raised her cocktail glass, a determined expression slipping onto her face. "So now, we're going to give you the best holiday you could ever have dreamed of." 

//

And, through the course of the next few days, they did exactly that. 

On her own, Jemma was sure she would still have enjoyed herself - in a place like _Florida,_ it would be hard not to. But with Fitz, Hunter and Daisy showing her the real deal of the place, well… _Spectacular_ was really the only word for it, with a capital _S,_ too. 

First of all, they took her to the beach - but instead of just rushing straight into the water with the rest of the tourists, they guided her around the bay and showed her a small, secluded inlet, where the water was shaded by a huge palm tree, and so clear that she could see every tiny, rainblw-coloured fish darting through the crystal waves.

Then Hunter had completely broken the peace by scooping up a huge handful of water and tossing it straight into Jemma's face, leaving her sputtering and gasping in indignation. 

Daisy had retaliated, partly in Jemma's defence, and partly, she suspected, because she'd never pass up the opportunity to splash Hunter - and, in a matter of moments, they were all engaged in a vicious splash-fight. Water flew in sparkling streams around the little inlet, accompanied by shrieks and wild threats, and peals of laughter almost as bright as the Florida sun. 

There were no winners in this fight, but Jemma couldn't remember the last time her ribs had ached so much from laughing this hard - and, when they stumbled back up to the hotel, soaked through but still exchanging increasingly ridiculous threats (including, notably, "I'll wake up at five AM to catch and dump a whole basketful of octopi on your bed," from, predictably, Daisy to Fitz) Jemma thought that she had honestly never felt happier. 

That feeling stayed with her as they shared another round of cherry cocktails, debating fiercely about who had won the most splashes in the fight - and even when Fitz, Hunter and Daisy reluctantly conceded that they needed to get back to work, it didn't fade away. 

She needed a bit of a nap after her long flight here, anyway, so it worked out pretty well. 

And the _next_ morning, when they all met up at the inlet before Fitz, Hunter and Daisy's breakfast duties, Jemma made sure to bodily tackle Hunter and send them both crashing into the water, tidily getting her revenge for yesterday. 

Fitz, seeing his chance, scooped Daisy up and hurled her into the water after Jemma - and so a war was begun. 

Every morning before breakfast, they made it a routine to dash down to their inlet, and engage in a mad wrestling match to see who would be the last one in the water. Fitz had a way of being the lucky one, and staying dry on land… until Hunter got his hands on him, of course. 

And once they had all been dunked at least six times (it was an unwritten rule that that was the bare _minimum,_ more was, in fact, practically requisite) it was back up to the hotel for coffee, and breakfast. 

The rest of the day's schedule depended on what the others were doing, but, inevitably, someone would find the time to go down to the beach with Jemma, or at the very least, bring her cherry cocktails by the pool. 

They all met up before lunch again, and before dinner - as well as _after_ dinner, drawing beach chairs up in a circle in the sand and sharing cocktails around a flickering fire that painted the night-darkened wavetops a soft gold. Cocktails, embarrassing family stories, and firelight made the _best_ setting for the most hilarious, uproarious bouts of shared laughter, as the stars twinkled down on them all. 

And the best thing of all was, Jemma didn't feel excluded, not for a _second._

Sure, she was the newcomer in the group, but the way these three had made her feel welcome was… nothing short of incredible, honestly. 

What really cemented her standing as "included," though, was almost certainly the story she told about Hunter, Great Aunt Sally, and the ghost of Pickwick Place. 

None of them had ever seen Hunter blush so red, or Fitz laugh so hard - and, though Hunter immediately retaliated with an equally embarrassing story about the time she, aged five at the time, had seriously asked an important lawyer friend of her father's whether he knew how babies were made. 

Those were just some examples in a nearly endless list, and, really, Jemma couldn't remember the last time she had felt _part of a group_ like this. 

Science, particularly her knack for it, tended to isolate her - but _here_ , she was thrown into the water just as quickly as any of the others, and invited to sprawl out on their beach chairs to dry out afterwards without a second thought, like she belonged there. 

And she was starting to think that she _might just._

Because, yes, it was all very chaotic, but such a very _companionable_ kind of chaotic. She had never seen anything _like_ the way Fitz and Daisy bickered, and flipped each other off, and insulted each other, but did it all completely out of love, with not a single shred of real ill-will behind it. 

She also had never experienced a relationship quite like Fitz and Hunter’s before - they were a sharp, sarcastic combination of British nationalism and sass in general, but somehow when they were with each _other,_ regardless of how much they still snarked back and forth, they turned into softer, fonder and hopelessly romantic versions of themselves.

Daisy’s relationship with the boys was something unique, too - she constantly teased and took the piss at them when they were being sappy, but there was also an affection in her gaze as she did it, and a low, fierce kind of determination that seemed to say, _if you hurt my boys, suffer the consequences,_ I _know about the martial arts dojo in the basement._

At least, that was what Jemma _thought_ it said, and honestly… she loved every moment of it. 

She also loved how effortless it was to become a _part_ of that dynamic, to roll her eyes with almost the same amount of affection as Hunter as Fitz and Daisy got it into their heads to bicker about this, that or the other; to laugh with them on the beach and participate in their friendly splash-fights and dunking wars; to listen with great amusement as they groaned and grumbled about the asshole tourists they had had to play nice with throughout their day.

There was just something about the three of them, and about the _Shieldshell,_ too, that just said, _let go of everything that’s holding you back, you’re welcome here, and you’re welcome to have_ fun. 

Maybe it was the way their smiles all lit up at the sight of each other, maybe it was the way they all turned those same smiles, with the same warmth and openness, on her… but for whatever reason, Jemma found herself doing exactly that - letting go of all her stress and tension, letting it trickle it away with the sparkling droplets of seawater as she wrung out her hair, and letting herself just have _fun._

And even in the odd moments when Fitz, Hunter and Jemma were all busy at the same time and she couldn't be with any of them directly, she still felt that same warmth and welcome deep inside her, like it had settled into her very bones. 

She felt it as she roamed the hotel at her leisure one afternoon, accidentally letting herself into a room where someone was trying to grow an all-organic garden from a new type of biofuel. 

It was a good idea, but its _execution,_ well… she could see at least twenty ways for it to be done better. 

And, if she had access to her lab for half an hour, she could have _tripled_ their harvest with a few simple biochemical additives. 

She said as much to the friendly-looking man in the Captain America shirt and red-and-blue painted shovel, who she assumed was some kind of fanboy-slash-gardener - and, after an initial period of surprise, he listened to her with great interest, and actually noted down her ideas. 

(It was only much later that she learned that the "gardener" had, in fact, been none other than Mr Phil Coulson, Daisy's father and the _owner of the hotel._

So, yeah, she had lectured the owner of the hotel about his bad taste in fertilisers. Bloody hell.

Fitz and Hunter, however, thought it was the funniest thing in the world, and the way they both split themselves laughing as they comically reenacted the little scene made that warm, welcomed feeling surge up in her again, despite the sharp prickle of embarrassment still heating her cheeks.) 

And that was how the days passed, really - a blur of sunshine and water and cherry cocktails and laughter during the days, and fire-dappled waves, feet kicked onto each other's beach chairs, embarrassing stories shared to the point of hysterical laughter, and more cherry cocktails during the evenings. 

It was _magical,_ it really was. 

So when Daisy knocked on her door late on the second-last night, Jemma (who at that point was still half-drunk on sunshine, laughter and cherry cocktails) didn't think twice about following her out, regardless of the surfboard strapped to the other woman's arm. 

"I said we were going to give you the best holiday you could ever dream of, so I’m going to let you in on Florida’s most epic secret,” Daisy said, looking over her shoulder to shoot Jemma a wide, dazzling grin. It was different to the flirty, so-charming-that-you-couldn’t-think-straight smiles she had given Jemma on that first day - much more like what she gave Fitz and Hunter, full of a bright and genuine sincerity that was somehow even _more_ stunning.

“And what might that secret be?” Jemma asked, half-jogging to keep up with Daisy’s skipping steps.

Daisy’s grin was full of pure and thrilling delight as she stepped out onto the white beach sand. “Midnight surfing.” 

And then she was off again, dashing down the beach to the edge of the moon-silvered sea, lowering her surfboard and waving Jemma over with an inviting grin.

Jemma, who had only just processed what those two words meant - _midnight_ and _surfing,_ what the bloody _hell_ \- stopped dead where she stood, shaking her head firmly. “Daisy, _no,”_ she said, looking at the gently breaking waves in undisguised dismay. “I don’t surf!” 

“I’ll show you!” Daisy promised, giving the surfboard a gentle nudge with her foot as though to prove her point. “We’ll start very easy, just lying on the surfboard and feeling the waves rock beneath you - it’ll be just like lying on a floaty in the pool.” 

When Jemma hesitated, torn, she added, _“please?”_

And - god _dammit._

Because the thing was, Jemma had learned to tell the difference between Daisy being sincere and Daisy flirting for the sake of it by now, and if it had been the latter, she would have been able to refuse. 

But here, moonlight glinting off the water behind her and casting a silvery glow on the sand around them, Daisy held Jemma’s gaze, and there was nothing but absolute sincerity there.

She _genuinely_ thought that Jemma would enjoy this, and she _sincerely_ wanted to teach her to surf, just for the sake of giving her that little bit of extra enjoyment.

And, well… how _could_ she say no to an offer like that? 

Besides, if she really _was_ just going to lie on the board… how bad could it be?

“Alright, I’m coming,” she said, half-reluctantly shrugging off her towel and spreading it out on the silvery sand. 

And despite the moon shining an ethereal silver trail onto the water behind her, when Daisy smiled, it was the brightest thing on that entire beach.

She was still grinning when Jemma reached her, jumping up and down and clapping her hands, and then, to Jemma’s surprise, wrapping her in a tight hug.

Before she could fully process what was happening, though - _Daisy, in her teal bikini, hugging her, ahhhHHHH_ \- Daisy had stepped away and was gesturing at the surfboard.

“Right, I’ll hold it still if you want to get on…” 

And so, very carefully at first, Jemma got onto the surfboard, gripping it tightly with both hands and squeezing her eyes shut when it bucked dangerously beneath her.

True to her word, though, Daisy held the board still, and, when a full minute passed and she hadn’t fallen off yet, Jemma dared to squint her eyes open.

She found Daisy grinning at her. “Ready to go deeper in?” 

And, actually, she _was_ \- with Daisy by her side and holding the board steady, she felt like she could do anything. 

The waves here in the shallows were very gentle, and they only rocked the surfboard very lightly when they hit it. Jemma would never admit it (oh, God, she was starting to pick up on some of the Fitz/Hunter/Daisy rivalry habits, _why)_ she was actually really enjoying the sensation.

So much so that, when Daisy pushed her deeper in, she tentatively sat up on her haunches, trying out the balance of that.

And it actually _worked,_ especially with Daisy still steadying the board beside her - Jemma let out an uncharacteristic and joyful whoop as she stayed on, feeling the surfboard rock underneath her weight but leaning just slightly back and forth to counteract it. 

“Hey, congrats, you’re a natural!” Daisy called with a beaming smile up at her, which, Jemma had to admit, were words she _never_ thought she’d hear in her life.

But they gave her a thrilling boost of confidence, and, when the biggest wave yet approached their board, she dared to stand up and try and ride it out. 

… Except, as it turned out, that was an executively terrible decision. The wave was _much_ bigger than it had seemed at first, and it had a kind of side-current in it that loosened Daisy’s steadying grip on the surfboard, just for a moment.

That moment was more than enough time for the sea, though, and in that fraction of a second that she was unbalanced, the wave caught her, scooped her board up, and then dropped her right back down into the water, head-first.

The same side-current that had unbalanced Daisy caught a hold of her now, flipping her over in a full somersault before she could even think of trying to make for the surface, and sending a stream of water surging straight up her nose. 

Coughing and spluttering, she fought her way up to the surface, finally coming up about four metres from her original position, physically no worse for the wear (except, of course, for her damaged pride.) 

Daisy, though, didn’t know that, and the panicked look in her eyes was replaced with intense relief when she saw Jemma’s head bob up. 

_“Jemma,”_ she breathed, half-running and half-swimming towards her as best she could through the chin-deep water. “Oh my God, are you okay?!” 

And Jemma, to her own surprise, _laughed_ \- the sound rich, and real, and _exhilarated._

“Yes,” she said, still grinning wider than she had for a long, long time. “Yes, I’m _fine.”_

And then, as Daisy reached out with a steadying arm, Jemma caught her hand and pulled her in for a kiss.

She didn’t know _what_ had made her do it - maybe it was the left-over thrills of adrenaline still surging through her body; maybe it was the fact that swallowing water had made her think of drowning, drowning had made her think of everything she wanted to do before she died, and leaving here without doing anything about her crush on Daisy was _not_ one of those things; or maybe it was just that Daisy looked really, _really_ pretty in that teal bikini, her hair in a wet, messy ponytail and little water droplets sparkling like diamonds on her skin. 

Whatever it was, she _did_ know that, after an initial moment of pure, frozen shock, Daisy threaded her hands into Jemma’s wet hair and pulled her close, kissing her back with everything she had.

She tasted like sunshine, and salt water, and just a hint of cherry cocktail - and Jemma found herself moaning, pulling her closer and tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

At the sound of her soft moan, though, Daisy froze, her hands stilling in Jemma’s hair. _“Shit,”_ she breathed, taking a small step back, quickly followed by another, and another, half-slipping on the sandy seafloor beneath them. “Shit, Jemma, oh my God, _shit,_ I am so sorry!” 

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Jemma asked, the racing of her heart turning from ecstatic and kiss-drunk to something that felt a lot more like dread.

Daisy shook her head sharply, her wet hair falling into her face, and for once, she didn’t shake it back. “I should _never_ have let that happen,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my God, Jemma, I am _so…_ you’re a guest here, I can’t…” 

She lowered her hands slowly, and the expression in her eyes was so genuinely anguished that Jemma’s heart actually stopped for half a second. “I am _so_ sorry,” she whispered, and then, before Jemma could get so much as another word out, she turned and ran, swimming through the silver-tinted sea faster than Jemma could ever hope to follow, and disappearing up the beach and into the hotel, leaving only a line of wet footprints in the sand and the tingling of Jemma’s lips behind her. 

Slumping down on the surfboard that had somehow managed to return to her side, Jemma closed her eyes and wept.

//

Jemma Simmons, in true English fashion, hated losing control of her emotions, and _hated_ crying - but that night on the beach, she did a lot of both of those things.

This was just so… unfair.

It was so _bloody_ unfair, because for the first time in her life, Jemma had connected with someone, genuinely connected with someone, without her job coming into play at all. And, unlike all the men back home who just wanted to get into her pants to be able to say they had slept with the smartest person in the company, she _knew_ Daisy wasn’t like that. At _all_ \- if anything, Daisy was the one who everyone wanted to sleep with. 

Besides, she knew that if she dated Daisy, she would never - _never -_ get bored, the way she always did with the guys at work, much to her own chagrin. It wasn’t like she _wanted_ to get bored, they were just so… not up to her level!

And the thing was, Daisy was so totally different to her, so _completely_ her opposite, that that would never be an issue. 

(Plus, she was pretty sure that someone as stunning, and kind, and funny, and genuinely _amazing_ as Daisy was well beyond _her_ level, so there was that. Plus, come on, Daisy and boring? Those two words didn’t even fit in the same _sentence._ ) 

In short, she and Daisy couldn’t be more different, but she couldn’t imagine her life without her. 

And Daisy felt the same way, too - Jemma was practical, and she knew that you didn’t kiss someone like _that_ if you didn’t feel something for them. 

But the problem was, Daisy was dead right. Their kiss _should_ never have happened, because there was just no way it would ever work out.

Tomorrow - _tomorrow -_ was her last day in Florida, and it wasn’t even a full day. She would have to leave by six, missing their now-traditional nightly campfire shenanigans, to catch her flight back to Heathrow. 

The thought made her heart ache painfully in her chest, and the sense of time she had been so wilfully suppressing these last few days came flooding back up into harsh reality - why, why, _why_ had she let herself feel so at home here, when she had _known_ from the start that she would have to go back to England in a week’s time? 

It had been stupid, _monumentally_ stupid - but not even that came close to the incomparable idiocy of falling for Daisy.

She had just set herself up for heartbreak, and worse, she had set _Daisy_ up for the same thing.

Dammit, dammit, _dammit_ \- it was all so _unfair,_ so bloody, painfully _unfair,_ that it actually brought tears to her eyes, tears of pure frustration and heartbreak.

The _one_ time she had a chance at a relationship that might actually work out, and work out _well,_ she had to drop it to go back to her _work,_ and the men who gaped at her like having boobs was way more impressive than possessing a functioning brain.

Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed, knowing that not even her little music box could keep this all in. 

And that was how Hunter found her half an hour later. 

_“Jemma!”_ he exclaimed, his voice starting off cheerful but transitioning into shock and worry when he saw she was crying. “Are you alright? What’s wrong? Where’s Daisy?” 

Unfortunately, Daisy’s name released a whole new flood of emotion, and Jemma started crying harder, for a moment putting up a valiant effort to stop the waves of tears, but failing just as quickly as she tried.

Every trace of sarcasm was gone from Hunter’s demeanor as he sat down next to Jemma, putting his hand comfortingly on her back. “Hey, hey, hey, Jemma, _hey,_ it’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” he said, rubbing soothing circles into the still-damp towel around her shoulders.

“It’s not, though,” she managed to get out through her tears. “It _can’t.”_

Hunter didn’t stop his soothing back-rubbing, but something in his voice did change as he asked, “What do you mean?” 

The concern and _love_ in his voice was just too much for her to bear, and, swallowing a hiccuping sob, Jemma told him everything. 

“So you see,” she said miserably when she had finished, “there’s nothing I can do, and absolutely _no_ way for this to be okay.” 

For a long moment, Hunter was silent - and then, to her complete surprise, he nodded slowly. “I know exactly how you feel,” he said simply. 

Jemma turned to him, her tears forgotten for a moment as she blinked up at him. “Wh-what?” 

“Yeah,” he said, stretching out his legs more comfortably and turning a wistful, but still very fond, gaze out on the moon-dappled waters. “I didn’t always live and work in Florida, you know.” 

“No, of course I know that, we grew up in Kent together,” she said, managing to find something that was almost a smile. 

Hunter smiled, too, bumping his shoulder into hers. “Yeah, I know that, cousin dearest,” he said with an affectionate roll of his eyes. “But I _meant,_ as an adult. I used to work for the SAS in England, you know.” 

“I remember,” she said, wrinkling her brow as she recalled Hunter coming to visit her dressed in his army fatigues once. 

“Yeah, well, I got shot pretty bad on a mission, and I came here for a holiday,” he said, half-unconsciously raising his hand to touch his shoulder, where she knew from seeing it up-close-and-personal when she had rugby-tackled him that he had a scar from the bullet. 

“Long story short, I came here, and I met Fitz,” he said, unable to keep back a small smile when he mentioned his boyfriend’s name. “We fell completely head-over-heels for each other in like two days.” 

“And as if that wasn’t enough, Daisy’s mom also started teaching me t’ai chi, to help my muscles heal from the bullet wound,” he said, flexing his shoulder to show off how well said training had paid off. “She helped me a lot.” 

“And eventually, when it was time for me to go back to the army, I just… I couldn’t,” he said frankly. “It’s this _place,_ I’m sure you’ve felt it - it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced anywhere else. It’s _special.”_

Jemma nodded at that, her eyes tearing up again. 

“Hell, even Fitz feels it,” Hunter said, throwing up a small handful of sand with one hand. “Did you know that he didn’t want to work here at first? Mrs May was touring in England, and she saw him being dragged around by his arsemonger of a father. For whatever reason, she decided to offer him a job, just for a week at first, but longer if he wanted it.” 

“And he did want it, didn’t he?” Jemma asked, her watery smile growing as she thought of Fitz standing behind the bar. 

“Well, you know how he and Daisy are, of course he did,” Hunter said. “And so did I, when it was my turn.” 

He turned to look at her, and there was an unusual seriousness in his gaze as he said, “That’s part of the magic of this place, Jems. It welcomes you, but it doesn’t just have to be for a holiday - if you want, you can stay here forever.” 

Mid-way through his little speech, the tears had started flowing down Jemma’s cheeks again, and she was shaking her head before he had even properly finished. “But I _can’t,”_ she sniffled. “I can’t just leave my job.” 

But even as she said the words, she realised that, actually, _that wasn’t true._

Her dendrotoxin project only had a few research papers left to send in, and she could complete those from a remote location easily enough; thousands of employees did. And she would be able to receive her paychecks, and give her one online presentation, just as easily in Florida as she could in England…

And as for a job in the Shieldshell, well -

It hit her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart, and she scrambled to her feet, gasping. 

“Hunter,” she said slowly, and in a tone of barely-contained excitement, “do you think Coulson would let me stay on here as a biochemical consultant for those organic gardens of his?” 

Hunter’s voice was surprised as he, too, got to his feet. “I don’t see why not,” he said, his brow furrowing as he considered. “And I’m pretty sure he’d have a thousand other odd jobs for you to do, too, he’s always said he’d love a real scientist to help him out with all his pet projects -” 

But Jemma was barely listening anymore, dashing up the stairs to the hotel and pausing only once, half-way up, to shout down at him, “You’re a _genius,_ Hunter!” 

“I mean, of course I am, but what are you -” 

Before he had time to finish the sentence, Jemma had barrelled down the stairs again, crashing into his chest and flinging her arms around him in a tight hug. 

“I love you so much, and thank you _so_ much for helping me see what to do,” she said into his shoulder, holding onto him like he had given her a lifeline - which, she supposed, he kind of had.

He patted her back, and even though she could tell he was one hundred percent confused, and that same amount surprised, there was genuine warmth behind the gesture. 

“What are you going to do now?” he asked when she stepped out of his embrace.

Jemma was half-way up the stairs before he had finished the question, but she shouted an answer back over her shoulder - “Cancel my flight!” 

//

One cancelled flight later, Jemma sat with her phone in her hands, biting her lip as she wondered what she was supposed to do next. She would have to let her work know, of course, and arrange to collect her last paychecks with them… oh, and she’d have to find a buyer for her flat in Devon. 

And this was all _assuming_ Mr Coulson would even let her take the job in the first place!

Oh, God, had she just made a very big mistake? 

Her hands shaking slightly, she made a flip decision and swiped over to her mum’s contact on her phone, waiting for just a second before pressing _Call._

It was past 1am here, but since her mother was in England, it would already be morning for her and, hopefully, she’d already be awake.

And sure enough, her mum answered on the first ring.

“Jemma, dear!” She sounded surprised, but pleased, Jemma thought.

“Hi, mum,” she said, leaning back onto the pile of pillows on her hotel bed. 

“Are you enjoying your holiday?” her mother asked, sounding fond. But then she paused, and Jemma could practically _hear_ her frown, even through the Transatlantic call. “Hang on, isn’t it past midnight over there, dear?” 

“Um… yeah,” Jemma said, wincing just slightly. “It’s twenty past one, actually.” 

“Twenty past… _Jemma!”_ Her mum managed to combine shock and disapproval in the way only mothers could, and, even though there were more than a thousand miles separating them, Jemma winced again.

“Mum, I… I need your advice,” she said, twisting the sheets in her lap.

Her mother was silent on the other end of the line, and when she spoke again, it was in a much more concerned, compassionate tone. “Is everything alright there, my darling? Are _you_ alright?” 

“I’m fine, I’m… pretty good, actually,” Jemma said, ducking her head to hide a smile as a picture of Daisy flashed into her head. “I just… Mum, how did you know Dad was the one?” 

Her mother’s voice was deliberately calm, but Jemma detected an undercurrent of sudden and intense excitement as she asked with faux nonchalance, “Any particular reason you’re asking?”

And, alright, there was _no_ hiding her smile now. “I… may have met someone,” she said, leaning further into the pillows and grinning wider, even though there was no way her mother could see. 

_“But,”_ she said, raising her voice over her mum’s delighted “Oh my _hat,_ Jemma, that’s fantastic news!” 

“But, she lives in Florida, and starting anything would mean I have to move here, indefinitely.” 

Her mum was silent on the other end of the line, and so Jemma pressed on, a little hesitantly, “So I guess I just wanted to ask your advice - do you think I should stay, or should I come back to England?” 

“Well, darling, first of all, let me just answer the question you asked me at the beginning of the call, and say that, despite what people might tell you, there’s no _real_ way to know when someone is the one,” her mother began, and in her mind’s eye Jemma could just see her readjusting the phone to a more comfortable position on her shoulder and pushing her glasses up her nose. “Time won’t give you any magical compasses, or any signs to show you the way.” 

“The only thing you can really do is _try,”_ her mum said simply. “If you’ve fallen for someone, and they’ve fallen for you, all you can do is give yourselves the chance to try it out.” 

“So you think I should stay in Florida?” Jemma asked softly, studying the little blue shell patterns on her hotel bedsheets.

“I think you should do what you think will make you happy,” her mother corrected, gentle but firm. 

Jemma blew out a long, soft sigh, tracing the outline of one of the seashells as she considered. “It would mean giving up my job -” 

“You’re a _genius_ , Jemma, you can easily find another,” her mother interrupted, with a roll of her eyes that was practically audible even through the Transatlantic line. 

“Actually, I do have something in mind here, already,” Jemma interrupted, her mind’s eye flashing over to Mr Coulson’s organic gardens, and already seeing even _more_ ways she could improve their efficiency.

Her mum managed to sound surprised, pleased and proud, all three at once. “Well, darling, that’s wonderful!” 

“It would _also_ mean I have to leave you guys behind, and I won’t be able to see you for at least six-month long stretches,” she pointed out, shifting the phone closer to her ear. 

Her mother huffed, the sound crackling, staticky, over the line. “Your father and I are grown adults, I think we’re capable of taking care of ourselves for six months at a time,” she said with just a hint of dry humour. “Besides, darling, we have each other. And you know -” She paused for a moment so Jemma could hear the sincerity in her tone, “- that’s all we’ve ever wanted for you, too.” 

She was silent for a moment longer, letting that sink in, before adding gently, “And I rather think that’s what you want too.” 

Jemma made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and an emotionally-overwhelmed kind of sniffle. Her mum was right, of course - she usually was, but right now in _particular._

 _“Besides,”_ her mother concluded, in that tone that said she knew she was about to deliver the clincher, “we _do_ live in the twenty-first century, and I’m sure you can teach your father and myself how to use that Google Feet application you keep going on about.” 

Jemma snorted a laugh. “Google _Meet,_ mum,” she said, rolling her eyes through the huge smile spreading across her face. “But you’re right. You’re quite right.” 

“I know I am,” her mother said, sounding just ever so slightly smug. “And now _you,_ darling, need to go find that American belle of yours and tell her exactly how you feel.” 

“I’ll do that,” Jemma agreed, her smile melting into an expression that was so soft that, if Hunter had seen, he would doubtless have mocked her about it for the rest of the day. “And, Mum… thank you.” 

“Anytime, dear,” her mother said, and Jemma could just _hear_ the warm smile in her voice, regardless of the miles that separated them. 

She stayed there in her bed for a moment longer, curled up against a giant pile of pillows with a phone in her hand and a fond smile on her face, but then, when a single text buzzed against her palm, she roused herself.

 _Off you go,_ her mum had sent, complete with a winking face emoji. 

Jemma shook her head, but she was smiling fit to burst as she stood up from the bed, carefully tucking her phone into the drawer of her bedside cabinet. All she needed to do now was find Daisy - and, okay, it _was_ nearly a quarter to two in the evening, so that might be a little hard, but -

_Smack._

She opened the door, and before she had time to process anything other than _uh-oh,_ she had crashed straight into a surprised and chagrined-looking Daisy who had evidently been waiting outside her door. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Jemma asked when her own head had stopped spinning, reaching out to catch Daisy’s arm and check her over concernedly. 

Daisy ducked her head, laughing ruefully, and the movement made one of her dark curls escape from the loose ponytail she had them in. 

Unable to resist the temptation - and also feeling pretty good about herself thanks to her mum’s reassuring words - Jemma reached out and brushed it behind her ear, her fingers lingering for just a second on Daisy’s cheek.

Daisy’s breath caught, and when she met Jemma’s eyes again, something in her gaze had shifted.

“I heard your conversation with your mom,” she blurted, her eyes wide and apologetic. “I didn’t mean to listen in, I actually didn’t, but the thing is, I came here to…” She paused, took a quick, bolstering breath, then went on again, “I came here to apologise for running off like that after, well, you know, and also to make it very clear that I’m really sorry, but I just _can’t_ date a guest.” 

“I actually had chocolates for you as an apology,” she admitted with a grimace, cringing as she brought out a little box from behind her back. 

Jemma chuckled. “Chocolates? Really?” 

“I knew listening to Fitz was a bad idea,” Daisy groaned, briefly hiding her face in her hands. 

But as quickly as the moment of levity had come, it was gone again, and Daisy’s eyes locked on Jemma’s, filled with that same riveting intensity from a few moments earlier, when Jemma had almost-cradled her cheek. “Is it true that you have a job in mind here?” she asked, and her voice was quiet, but the words hit Jemma like an electric shock. 

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly feeling quite dry, for no particular reason. “Well, um, if your dad will have me, I thought it might be nice to consult for him a little bit, you know, on the organic gardens. I could also be a waitress, I suppose?” 

“If my dad will _have_ you?” Daisy broke in with an incredulous laugh. “Jemma, he wouldn’t stop talking about you, or how brilliant you were, for three days in a _row._ His biggest lament of the year so far has been that you have to go back to England so soon!” 

It was Jemma’s turn to give an incredulous laugh - incredulous; and more than a little delighted. “Really?” she asked, not quite daring to believe it. 

_“Really,”_ Daisy said emphatically. 

Jemma could feel a smile spreading across her face, slow but positively _radiant,_ and right in time with the giddy, _delighted_ feeling building up through her body. “So that means that, as of when we tell your dad, I’ll be an employee here?” 

“Most definitely,” Daisy agreed, and then, to the surprise and delight of the thousand butterflies that seemed to have taken up residence in her stomach, she reached forward and caught Jemma’s hand. “And while I can’t date a guest here, two _employees_ , on the other hand…” She shook her head slowly, her eyes sparkling. “Well, you’ve seen Fitz and Hunter.” 

“I definitely have,” Jemma agreed, smiling so hard now that she thought she might _burst_ with sheer happiness. Swinging Daisy’s hand faux-casually between them, she asked, looking at Daisy through her lashes in her best echo of Daisy’s own effortless flirting, “So is this your way of asking me to be the feminine versions of Fitz and Hunter?” 

Daisy’s eyes filled with mischief, and she squeezed Jemma’s hand, bringing their joined hands up to rest beneath her chin, just above her heart. “The feminine, _better-in-every-way_ versions of Fitz and Hunter.” 

Jemma threw back her head and laughed, letting her delighted, giddy happiness, and the sparkling tingles from where their hands touched fill her from head to toe with a dizzy, blissful feeling, not unlike a sip of Fitz and Hunter’s special cherry cocktail. 

“Well, in _that_ case,” she told Daisy, meeting her gaze with a warm, affectionate smile, “I accept.” 

Daisy’s eyes lit up with the most real, most _beautiful_ sparkle Jemma had ever seen, and she gave their joined hands a quick tug, twirling Jemma neatly into her arms. 

“Smooth,” Jemma said breathlessly, her body exploding into a shower of giddy tingles from all the places her skin brushed Daisy’s. 

Daisy grinned down at her, her eyes crinkling with a mixture of laughter affection, dipping her head down just enough that she could reach Jemma’s lips.

And then they were kissing again, and _this_ time, neither of them pulled away, and there was nothing and no-one to interrupt them.

Well. 

Sort of. 

When Jemma shifted closer to Daisy, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend (girlfriend? _girlfriend)_ ’s neck, she accidentally jostled the precarious hold Daisy still had on the box of chocolates, causing a sharp corner to poke her in the side.

She squinted down at the chocolates that had been supposed to be her apology/condolences gift, then turned to look at Daisy, raising one eyebrow. “What do you say we go… share these in my room?” 

Daisy looked from Jemma, to the chocolates, and then back to Jemma, and for a single, heart-stopping second, Jemma wondered if she had been too forward.

But then Daisy grinned, wide and absolutely radiant. _“Hell_ yeah.” 

// 

“Darling, there’s a letter for you,” her husband’s voice came floating into the kitchen, and Mrs Simmons paused with one hand on the kettle, raising her eyebrows.

Her husband came into view, holding a simple white envelope in his hands. “Actually, I think it’s a postcard,” he said, studying the stamp on the corner.

Mrs Simmons was smiling even before he had finished the sentence. “Well, let’s see it!” she said, wiping her hands on a tea towel before crossing the kitchen to stand next to him. 

She had a good idea of what she was going to see, of course, but she still wanted to see it. Quite badly. 

Smiling fondly, her husband tugged open the envelope in one smooth movement - he always _had_ been good at that - and pulled out a simple photograph.

It was a classic Florida beach scene, with white sand stretching in all directions, and palm trees scattered picturesquely across the key - and, in the foreground of the picture, stood Jemma in a light blue swimsuit, with her arm wrapped tightly around a dark-haired girl in a bright pink bikini wrap. In the far right of the photo, two guys - one with curly blond hair and blue eyes, and the other with short, darker hair and a cocktail in his hand, were pulling faces at the girls’ backs, laughing hysterically as they did.

Jemma, for her part, was smiling, more radiantly than Mrs Simmons had seen her do in _years,_ and she found herself beaming with a mother’s pride as she flipped the photo over to read the simple, hand-written message on the back. 

_Thank you very much for arranging this holiday for me, Mum and Dad,_ Jemma had written. _It really turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me._

_**The End.** _


End file.
